


One next himself in power, and next in crime

by AuteurOnirique



Category: Black Sails
Genre: But mostly porn, Flint gives Gates a blowjob, M/M, Pre Season 1, Some feels, and Gates rims Flint, it's just porn, some descriptions of violence as if the taking of a ship violence, the archive warnings are just a safety, there is a some afterglow / aftercare as well i'm a sucker for those, yes you're seeing right it's gates / flint porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuteurOnirique/pseuds/AuteurOnirique
Summary: James Flint gives blowjobs like the Forbidden Fruit is a cock - The Flint/Gates fic I never thought I'd actually write.(the title is from Book I ofParadise Lost)





	One next himself in power, and next in crime

Flint was always a bit shy at first. Obviously experienced, but shy nonetheless. This was hardly a surprise for Gates. Many men had shame so ingrained they would either react violently or be shy and then react violently. 

That wasn’t Flint’s case however. 

Flint would always look a bit surprised, a bit caught off guard, although that was hardly the first time they would be intimate, he would frown a little, and then, with movements half started, half aborted, would respond. 

That was why Gates was the one who had to take the lead at first, even when Flint looked positively longing for it. 

They were sitting on the bench by the window, checking how good that Spanish’s ship’s map was, using the stars, feeling already a little tipsy on the strong rum they had also found in the Spanish’ ship hold. 

“It’s a mediocre map,” Flint concluded, shrugging and making the little pout he never ever admitted he did, even when Miranda and Gates teased him about it.“But it’ll do.”

Gates laughed at that and fondly patted Flint’s back: “I’m so glad it could satisfy you in any way, my Lord.”

“Trust me, Hal,” Flint said with a rare smile, “I have always been anything but a lord.”

As a rule, they never spoke of Flint’s past. Gates knew it was too heavy to be let out. It just…. radiated around him, like a raging aura, like a black coat billowing in the wind. Gates didn’t want to press where that hurt. He just wanted to press where it would feel good for Flint. 

The man threw him one of those longing glances Gates had been waiting for all evening. The silent pleading of ever-changing eyes, the looseness in Flint’s movements, yet to reach his still very straight stance. Gates could take care of that. 

Gates’ hand didn’t leave Flint’s back but gently caressed its way up to his neck and then gently, but firmly, brought Flint to him. Flint let himself be moved with a long grateful sigh. Gates started with a quick kiss and then waited for Flint to catch up and kiss him back, sliding closer and closer as the kiss deepened until he was all but in Gates’ lap. 

There was very little Flint did without passion, and surrendering wasn’t one of those things. Gates hooked one hand around Flint’s belt to drag him closer, the other hand still on Flint’s neck, pressing him close as they kissed. He couldn’t resist the temptation of Flint’s hair, tangling his fingers in it, pulling at it a little. 

Flint moaned against him, trying to stifle the noise against Gates’ lips with another kiss. 

Gates felt that go directly to his cock. Flint made noise so rarely it always drove him wild when he did. Gates did it again, adding a little more force, just as Flint was coming up for air after a long kiss which involved a very dirty trick of his tongue. But this time, Flint had been ready, and he bit his lower lip before he could make noise. The way his eyes fluttered close, however, was reward enough. Gates couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Flint frowned, battling with the moans threatening to be heard. Flint’s eyes opened after a moment and he looked a little vexed by Gates’ smile. A second later, Gates wasn’t smiling anymore, with Flint’s hand on his cock, gently pressing the heel of his hand against the base of him. “Never heard a man chuckle with a cock this hard,” Flint said with a little victorious smile that, along with the yellow light of the candle, made his eyes shine in the way the sea shines under a bright sun. 

Gates tried not to be mesmerized. He knew what happened to the people who were mesmerized. He knew what happened to the quarter deck man who, immediately after sharing a watch with Flint, had decided he wanted to be down there firing the canons and, after seeing Flint come back from the boarding of a French ship, covered in blood, had decided he wanted to be on the vanguard of the boarding party. He knew how the man got reckless and received a rather nasty scar on his face that almost resulted in his death, while Flint only returned with a few scratches and powder burns and never looked at Singleton for more than a few seconds. 

Gates knew better. He had seen too many Icarus men not to know any better than flying too close to the sun, no matter how mysterious their eyes looked in the light of a candle, and how pretty their lips were when bruised with kisses. 

So he let Flint’s neck go and busied himself with undoing Flint’s breeches while Flint was slowly, slowly massaging him through his own trousers. Flint was only half-hard, but Gates could deal with that rather quickly: he grabbed his now naked ass and gave it a squeeze. 

Flint’s hips bucked at that and he had to bite his hand rather savagely not to shout. Gates smiled, thinking about that time Flint has scolded a man two heads taller than he was for tying the halliard like ‘some twelve year-old drunk’. He gave another gentle squeeze and lowered his caresses to Flint’s thighs while his cock twitched, but Flint was already withdrawing, standing up and pushing his breeches down, mumbling at his boots before removing them as well, and a minute later, he was only wearing a too big white shirt which, sadly, covered most of his cock. 

Gates knew what was coming, but he was still breathless by the time Flint had sunk to his knees. He would remember the first time Flint sucked him off on his deathbed. Well he was very unlikely to get a deathbed, so probably his deathshiptheywereboarding or his deathdoctor’stable. Flint’s technique was flawless, obviously taught and practiced just as much as his fighting, and the fact that Flint himself enjoyed it so much made it so much more exciting. 

Flint was kneeling, keeping his back straight, as usual, removing Gates’ trousers with practiced hands, barely waiting for Gates to lift up his hips so he could tug the trousers down before taking him in hand, testing the girth and the size with a few slow and delicious tugs. The hand that wasn’t holding him was on his thigh, were the half moons he had made with his short blunt nails last time were still red. Then Flint looked up at Gates and Gates couldn’t help but feel very much like a foolish boy looking right at the sun. 

Then Flint stuck out his tongue and licked him and it was Gates’ turn to bite his fist not to make any noise. Gods it had been so long. They were only doing this because they had the opportunity of washing after taking the prize. Otherwise, they would just be rutting on each other as they usually did on long trips. But now Flint was on his knees before him and was exploring his cock all over again, licking long stripes, lingering on the head, and then retracting, as if he had forgotten himself, and licking again. 

Gates could feel arousal spike up in him, making him so very warm, a gentle warmth for now, arousal that is not too pressing but still thrumming and needy. Gates enjoyed this part, the part where he could watch Flint open his mouth and take him whole. Flint always closed his eyes for that part, like it was just for him. Gates could feel his half-aborted thrust of his hips against his leg but did nothing: Flint disliked coming before Gates could come. This time, when he felt Flint’s warm and eager mouth around him, Gates didn’t repress a low groan. he didn’t want to stop watching Flint tighten his lips around his cock, but the wash of pleasure made him close his eyes for a second. 

He was, however, jolted back to Flint as soon as he felt the head of his cock touch the back of Flint’s throat. Gates was considered big by a lot of men, but that never seemed to deter Flint. On the contrary, that seemed to rather please him, like any challenge inevitably did. Gates’ hand went right to Flint’s hair, fingers tangling there in soft freshly-washed hair. He didn’t try to move him, he had to much respect for Flint’s cock-sucking skills for that, but he felt like he needed something to hold on to while his heart rate skyrocketed. Flint immediately moaned, no longer repressing it now that it was muffled enough.It felt so good Gates could barely think, just hang on to the slow pace Flint was settling in. Everything Flint was so good and felt like wild abandon and decadence. 

Gates remembered the first time Flint has sucked him off. They has gone down to the hold to make the inventory (it was Flint’s first time doing the inventory on this ship so Gates had offered to go down with him so he could teach him) and they had fallen on two men having just finished and putting their clothes back on. Gates had laughed it off while Flint has stared at them, torn between the Articles and his new-found freedom. The place reeked of sex and Gates could see Flint was still agitated so he had told him he had better get used to it because everyone came down here when the voyage was a bit long. Then Flint, with his usual finesse and wild decision-making, had thrown himself at him, kissing him like (Gates had to admit) no one had ever kissed him. And Gates had touched him back, and Flint had reacted as if that was a miracle, kneeling in front of him and sucking him like he needed it to breathe. 

Gates groaned louder. Flint never lost this desperation, this hunger for being touched back. He just got better at it, at remembering what Gates liked. Flint took him deep in his throat and swallowed around him, his head bobbing up just enough to lick the head of his cock before sheathing him again in his mouth, sucking harder. 

Flint looked up at Gates, the sea-green of his eyes eaten away by black, making him look like the strange creature people were telling blood-baptisms tales about. Gates knew first-hand how good Flint looked like when covered in blood, but he also knew how intoxicating Flint was with his lips bruised red wrapped around his cock, a blush colouring his cheeks red all the way to his neck and even his ears. How delightful the contrast was with his almost black eyes. Then Flint hollowed his cheeks, his tongue pressing up against the vein underneath, and Gates bit his fist again, fighting against the spike of arousal that made him throw his head back and his muscles lock. 

He couldn’t breathe for a second and immediately, his hand tightened in Flint’s hair. Flint eased off a little, going back to bobbing his head up and down, sucking lightly on his way up. When he took Gates back right in, he moaned, eyes fluttering close a little before he could force himself to keep them open. Gates shuddered at the spectacle. It was a full experience, the warm and wet sensations around his cock, the sight of Flint aroused beyond measure, and the obscene noises of Flint becoming a little sloppy with it.

”Oh god, you’re so good at this, look at you,” Gates said, his voice much, much deeper, and rougher. His thumb caressed Flint right behind his ear, moving in little encouraging circles. Flint’s long moan resembled a purr as he melted in the touch, his hands tightening on his thighs and his hips thrusted helplessly, searching for friction. Gates wanted to say more. He wanted to tell Flint he loved all he could see. He loved Flint on his knees for him. He loved Flint for loving doing this. He loved how his tongue felt against him, he loved how sloppy he became when desperation set in. He loved cradling his head and feeling him moan around him. He loved him for seeing something in an old pirate worth looking up at him while he sucked him off with more than the desire of getting rid of an itch. He loved him for staying alive against all odds. He loved him for being mad and very much alive. 

Gates could feel it in the pit of his stomach, expanding to the rest of him, muscles tightening again. His hand tightened on Flint’s hair, inclining his head a little so that he could look at him while he told him: “Not long now.” Anyone would have nodded and finished him with their hand, but Flint, as usual, was an exception. He forced his eyes open resolutely and never stopped looking at Gates while he picked up the pace, tightening his lips just a little. One of his hands, slightly sweaty from clutching at Gates who was sweating himself, went to his balls, cupping them gently before massaging them slowly. But Flint barely had to do anything actually, Gates could already feel his toes curl and the arousal run up his calves, his legs, to his groin. He held Flint’s head to him in an almost unconscious movement and he came in his mouth, Flint moaning so loud they should have worried about being heard. 

Gates could easily see himself becoming addicted to the way coming in Flint’s mouth made him feel. He had missed the all-encompassing sensation of orgasm slamming through him, the way it made him stretch and then half-fold himself over Flint, probably cutting his air for a few seconds. The way it left him struggling for breath, tingling and spent, too tired not to be at peace while Flint was swallowing his come.

He looked down at Flint when he sat back, letting Gates’ cock fall out of his mouth. He still looked at Gates’ spent cock, eyes looking at a far away point Gates couldn’t ask about. Not yet. He still didn’t touch himself despite being so hard he had a wet spot on his shirt. Gates wondered, once again, who taught him so well he would still follow their orders months, possibly years, afterwards. 

But now he couldn’t stomach the fact that Flint was withdrawing from him. Not yet. He didn’t want to even think about being treated like Singleton, like anyone else on this ship, on Nassau. Like a ghost haunting Flint as he was trying to find reality. 

So he extended his hand to Flint who looked up at him automatically. They both smiled at the echo from the taking of the ship. A Spaniard had come behind Flint as he was killing another and Gates had felt his heart stop when he had seen this and had immediately turned his pistol to the Spaniard and shot at him through the fog of gunpowder smoke. The detonation had startled Flint who almost didn’t block his opponent’s attack but slit his throat with one swing of his cutlass shortly after. On his side, Gates was struggling with gaining the upper-hand on the opponent he had left for a few seconds and that Joshua had distracted in the meantime. They were too close and Gates couldn’t gain enough time and distance to get his knife out. He had been starting to sweat and get tired. He could barely see the face of the man he was trying to kill. Suddenly, someone fighting behind him was shoved right into his back, making him loose his balance and fall down at the Spaniard’s feet. The first hit to his back and the other’s to his knees at they hit the deck had hurt at some of his weakest points, used by years of similar hits. The pain had almost blinded him, sending sparks of hurt through his entire body. But he knew that, if he didn’t ignore the pain, he would certainly be dead in seconds. So he had rolled unto his back and gotten ready to shove his boots into his opponent’s balls to gain enough time to get up again. 

However, as he was looking up to search for his opponent, he had only seen him stare in disbelief at the cutlass sticking out his stomach. The next moment, he was joining Gates on the floor and Flint appeared, covered in blood, heaving, hair free of its queue, a vision of rage so pure he almost looked like a saint. He killed him by planting his cutlass in his neck. Then Flint had turned to him, catching his breath, and had extended his hand to help him up. 

Now Gates was the one to help Flint up. He kissed him, immediately slipping his tongue in his mouth, to taste himself there, to feel the warmth and wetness of it for a moment longer. Flint’s tongue met his and teased it as he had teased his cock. If the day had been good and calm, Gates would have gone to his knees for him in return, but his knees still hurt and his back would have made him uncomfortable in seconds. Seeing how wild Flint’s eyes and how red his cheeks, he wouldn’t have for very long, but Gates wanted to offer him something good.

He had had something Flint craved from the beginning. Gates could offer him something no one else on this ship could. He could see Flint, not for a god, a menace, a hurricane, a deadman come from beyond, a monster, but just a man, a raving mad man with a need to be guided, sometimes. That made Gates feel warm on the hottest days when one could swear they couldn’t get any hotter. 

So Gates slid down on the bench until he was lying down and Flint understood. He climbed up, one knee on each side of Gates, the white shirt hiking up on his delicious thighs and offering Gates a glimpse of his red hard cock. Gates felt surprisingly fond of Flint like this, slightly awkward in his movements because of arousal clouding his mind and his eyes, and letting Gates move him. He gently caressed the back of his thighs, fingers tracing some freckled constellations, before bringing him up until those glorious thighs framed his head. Gates started by sliding a hand under Flint’s shirt, feeling incredibly naughty while doing so, despite having done it a good many number of times. He took Flint’s cock in his hand and Flint immediately gasped, almost as if he had been hurt. Not long then, if he was this sensitive. Gates immediately let go of his cock not to precipitate his end. Flint whined, frowning and looking down where Gates was now grabbing his hips. 

“Hal,” he protested, ”please,” he added, lower. 

“Shh, I have something better for you. Lean on the wall above me.”

Flint immediately obeyed and Gates could feel his cock twitch uselessly. He wondered if he could get Flint to fucking listen to any of his advice by doing this. Flint refusing to follow the coast and insisting on getting the stronger wind at large to overtake a tobacco ship even though it meant making a very dangerous maneuver to turn and cross the t to hit the ship broadside. Gates just walking behind him, gently pressing against the heavy desk of the cabin and cupping him through his breeches, massaging him into a whimpering mess while explaining firmly why that was a bad idea and they were not doing it. What a sight that would be. He could remember the last time he had fondled Flint, pressing him against the door to the cabin while Flint was rubbing his ass on his cock, both of them stil entirely clothed. 

But it wasn’t the moment to get distracted. Flint was leaning on the wall over him, his thighs on each side of Gates’ head as he was lowering him down, hands sliding from his hips to his ass. He spread him, delighting in the way Flint’s breath hitched and his hips tried to thrust helplessly. Flint swore under his breath when he understood what Gates meant: “Are you sure?” He asked. Gates chuckled against Flint’s shirt: “We aren’t going to be this clean that often. Do you want this?”

Flint nodded, pressing his face in his elbow: ”Yes, yes, please.”

Gates arranged his head, bringing Flint to him and dragging his tongue across his hole once. Flint tensed, letting out a little whine that almost sounded like he was in agony. Flint’s hole was red, puckered and so very ready for him. Gates licked him again, letting the tip of his tongue catch on the rim. He could hear Flint breathe so loudly he sounded like he was hauling a cannon. So Gates continued, getting familiar again with Flint, alternating between long broad swipes of his tongue and kitten licks that particularly got Flint going. He could feel his sideburns catch on Flint’s sensitive skin, probably adding to the sensations that made him tense up against him. 

Gates kept Flint spread, squeezing him from time to time, just to feel Flint buck against him. He no longer felt awkward, but was melting against him, the looseness making his movements more languorous. Seeing Flint like this was incredible. Gates redoubled his efforts, licking across his hole one last time before slipping his tongue inside, thrusting it a little. Flint’s back arched, arms trembling a little as he was still trying to keep himself upright while pleasure pulsed inside him. 

Gates fucked him with his tongue, just like he would, if Flint had been sitting on his cock instead of his tongue and Flint knelt there, biting into his shirt, moaning low in his throat until his thighs were trembling and covered in sweat and Gates could feel Flint’s pearly pre-come drip on his forehead. 

He withdrew his tongue, making Flint protest as best he could with words slurred and eyes glassy and unfocused, lovelier than a hold full of gold. Gates interrupted him, his voice rough with misuse: “Come on, move,” he said, slapping his ass was good measure. The slap was a little more forceful than he would have done with anyone else, but he knew Flint liked it that way. Flint pressed his fingers in bruises absent-mindedly and traced healing scars with dreamy fingers. “And tell me how it feels with my tongue there,” he added before pressing his face back. 

Flint started moving his hips too eagerly, movements sharps and uncoordinated all over again. Gates had to squeeze his ass again to remind him to take it slower. He felt Flint take a deep breath over him and focus. Gates licked him again and kept his tongue out so Flint could ride his face. Flint rolled his hips and Gates found the excellent practice again. The movement was so graceful and languid that it felt dirty in itself. Gates felt his heart beat in his chest and his own breath shorten. 

After a few rolls of his hips, Flint found a rhythm that pleased him and started talking: “Oh god, it feels so good, you’re so wet, and it feels so good against me… I love how…” Flint stopped, pressing himself a bit more against Gates’ face, “Oh. Oh, I can feel your beard against me and it’s…” Flint moaned. Gates could hear his chopped breath, knew he was now too far gone to bite his lips. He slid his tongue in again and thrusted in with Flint’s movements. More pre-come dripped on him and Gates knew Flint was close. 

He lifted up a hand over Flint’s shirt and found his nipple, gently playing with it with the added sensation of coarse linen, making Flint’s hips buck. “Yes, Hal, yes,” Flint pleaded, a hand immediately covering Gates’ to keep him there. 

Gates never had anyone hold his hand in any way while they were fucking. Yet Flint was now holding his hand, fingers digging in the flesh just like they had done on his thigh, as if he was afraid of letting go, punching out small hurt moans. Gates accepted the feeling it made bloom in his chest. Mind swimming from arousal and his airways being mostly blocked, Gates accepted that he loved Flint, that he loved having Flint lean into him, seek him, his counsel, his tongue, his hands. Gates accepted that he was the biggest fool on this ship, following Flint not just for gold or vain glory, or revenge, but for the high of feeling wanted by such a man.

Flint was now rolling his hips in tight little circles, trying to get more of Gates’ tongue inside him. Gates gave him everything he could, holding him tight, pressing his tongue inside him, face wet with sweat and spit. “God, Hal, please, it’s so good, please.”

Suddenly, Flint tensed, toes curling by Gates’ side, thighs trembling a little, his entire body strung up like a hanged man’s rope. Gates felt Flint’s hole pulse open and close tightly around his tongue and closes his eyes. Flint stops breathing for a second while he comes untouched. Gates laid there, eyes closed, arms locked with all his strength to hold Flint from crushing him, holding on to him for dear life, receiving his orgasm like a gift. 

When he had spent himself, Flint’s entire body started relaxing, little by little. His toes uncurl, his calves relax, and when his thighs stopped trembling, Gates helped him come down into his lap as he sat up, back to the wall Flint was weakly holding on to. Gates tried not to move the hand pressed against Flint’s heart too much just in case Flint would realize he was still holding his hand. Gates was glad to see Flint better now that he wasn’t under him. The blush was already starting to leave his red cheeks but still coloured his neck. His hair was a mess, falling in his eyes, sticking to his forehead and his chest heaved with the aftermath, meeting Gates’ through his coarse and stained shirt. 

Every sensation seemed magnified by the aftermath. Gates could now realize how strong the scent of sew and sweat was. He could feel Flint’s burning body against his own and his hot breath against his neck. He could feel Flint’s skin sticking to his with sweat and the tip of his hair tickling his shoulder. It felt good. It felt so good. Flint sat up with a tired groan which should make Gates’ heart melt like that, but did. Flint looked straight at his face for a second, before taking his head in his hand and, bending his head, licked him clean. 

When he had finished, Gates kissed him a bit more forcefully than he had intended to, tasting rum, sweat and come on Flint’s tongue, dirty, powerful, and somehow rebellious (not that it was surprising, coming from Flint’s tongue) Flint moaned in the kiss, letting his tongue be tasted and sucked upon. He did, however, break the kiss with a yawn he tried to conceal behind his hand, making Gates laugh at him: “Off to sleep, young man. Loose the shirt as well, it’s stained.”

“Did we get any new ones from the Spanish ship?” Flint asked, raising his arms as Gates took off the stained white shirt. 

“Yes, two from some the lieutenant’s trunk. Might be a bit big for you.”

“ ‘Is good,” Flint replied, trying to keep his eyes open. He took the shirt and gently wiped Gates’ face and chest before wiping the corners of his mouth and his own chest. 

Gates could only sit here, admiring the freckles on his shoulders and chest. The newly healed tattoo he had made himself, the way his hair fell in his face, the bruises on his chest and left shoulder. He traced a hand between Flint’s thighs, idly tracing the beard burns on the pale skin there. When he looked up at Flint, he was smiling. Gates kissed him, short and sweet, before taping his thigh. 

“Come, off to sleep now, boatswain.”

“Yes, captain,” Flint replied.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks a lot for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Sorry if you noticed any typos or glaring mistakes, it's nearly midnight and no one proof-read it (they would have stopped me if they had)
> 
> You can send your "what the fuck avi"s in the review section below or on my tumblr [awedbyhersplendor](http://awedbyhersplendor.tumblr.com).


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